Maybe seven.
She had two braids, purple glasses, and a serious expression.
She was reading the list to him.
“Peaches, oatmeal, dish soap, and the square crackers Nana likes.”
Silas nodded gravely.
“Square crackers.”
“Not rectangle.”
“Important distinction.”
The little girl looked at him like he was barely competent.
“Very important.”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
Silas looked up and saw me.
“Ma’am.”
“Silas.”
The little girl turned.
“Are you from Uncle Silas’s work?”
“Sort of,” I said.
“She’s the bus lady,” Silas said.
The girl’s eyes widened.
“You drive the yellow bus?”
“I do.”
“Can you honk the horn anytime you want?”
“Technically, yes.”
“Do you?”
“Only when necessary.”
She looked disappointed.
Silas said, “This is my niece, Junie.”
Junie gave me a suspicious nod.
The kind children give when they are deciding whether you are useful.
“Nice to meet you, Junie.”
She looked at Silas.
